


Our Names

by destielpasta



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergent, F/M, Future Fic, POV First Person, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 12:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15024329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielpasta/pseuds/destielpasta
Summary: What if Nick could just drive away with her?





	Our Names

One more mile.

We had been driving along the Canadian border for three hours. In another mile, we’ll take a turn onto an old dirt service road and we’ll be met by immigration to seek sanctuary. Technically this land is still disputed, still covered in American and Gilead’s soldiers alike. Enough for this to be safe.

As safe as anything can be, here.

For now, we are Commander Goodwin and his wife Candace. The suit Mayday had given Nick is too big on him, and it bunches around his shoulders. I pick at a loose thread in the seam of my blue cloak.

“Don’t unravel it,” Nick mutters, his tone dry but his eyes smiling.

I shake my head, smiling. Funny how I can still feel good, even though we’re not there yet. You’d think I would have learned my lesson on that tarmac.

Nick keeps his hand on the shifter, even though the car is an automatic. Did he drive a standard, before?

Objectively, I know that’s a weird thing to wonder about. But so much has been taken from us, even from Nick. He was allowed a record player and a picture of his brother, but he couldn’t take them with him.  

You can only get so much out of Gilead.

“What’re you thinking about?” He asks, one hand on the steering wheel.

I laugh a little, to myself. “Whether you used to drive a standard.”

He glances at his own hand, smiling and shaking his head. “I didn’t drive much. Rode the bus mostly.”

“Huh.” I glance in the back seat where Hannah is sleeping, covered by her old pink cloak. Underneath that she wears blue jeans and a purple hoodie that says Old Navy on it. Proper little girl clothes for the childhood she will reclaim.

I run a hand over my belly. The baby kicks.

“Just a half a mile now,” Nick says, lifting his hand from the shifter and laying it over mine, feeling for the baby. “Look out for the turn.”

We’re in a tiny old Ford Focus. He wouldn’t have been able to do that in Waterford’s old Town Car.

I lift his hand to my lips, kissing his knuckles and lacing our fingers together and keeping him there.

I wonder what we’ll be, on the other side. Luke will be my husband, Hannah’s father, the man I love. What will Nick be?

 _The man I love_ , I finish for myself. _My child’s father._

I worry at my lip, but there’s no sense in it. How can things go back to the way they were? Is it even possible?

I spot an area of trees that have thinned, though it’s almost pitch black.

“There. There’s the road,” I say, pointing.

He brakes, squeezing my hand.

We don’t know how far we have to drive along this road. Only that it’s the way.

He turns.

In front of us, there’s darkness, with only a pinprick of light looming some ways down the road. They’re waiting for us.

Our eyes meet. He gives the car more gas.

The light turns out to be a cabin, old and shabby and probably a stop for hunters back in the day. Nick gets out first, his hands already up while I get Hannah from the back seat. She’s too much to hold now, but she’s starting to wake up, her little legs carrying her as we walk to the other side of the car to join Nick.

A man steps out of the cabin. He holds a rifle close to his side.

“Names?”

I take a breath.

“Nick Blaine and June Osborne.”  I stumble, my speech clumsy. “And Hannah. My daughter, Hannah.”

The man’s eyes run over our clothes.

“Disguises,” Nick says, “From Mayday.”

There’s a beat, but then the man shoulders his rifle.

“Welcome to Canada, Nick and June. The welcome gets warmer and fuzzier the farther inland you get.”

Inland. Like we had come from a turbulent ocean. 

He leans the rifle against his house. “Leave the car. I got new clothes for you.”

I hold my daughter’s hand. Nick holds the small of my back.

 _Nick and June._ I can deal with that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love! Let me know if you have suggestions for future handmaids tale fic! This is dedicated to Izzy, who requested some happy nick and June. I’m not so good at happy, but I did my best!


End file.
